


Five Times Oliver Almost Had It All

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Drunken College Lust, Episode Tag, Implied Laurel/Oliver, Implied Laurel/Tommy, M/M, Pre-Series, Romance, Spoilers for all of Season 1, Undertaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 05:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Tommy's relationship, from first kiss to what happens after the Season 1 finale, with some sweetness and some angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Oliver Almost Had It All

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for all of Season 1
> 
> Written for this prompt on comment-fic on lj: Oliver Queen/Tommy Merlyn, a thousand possibilities

When they are 13, Oliver asks Tommy, "What do you think we'll be like when we grow up?"

Tommy grins. "We'll rule the world, obviously."

"Together?"

"Together."

"Okay. But I get the Pacific."

Tommy laughs and says, “I knew you were going to say that!”; Oliver leans forward, awkward, almost retreats.

Tommy backs away on instinct but then realizes what Oliver is attempting.

He leans in.

It is the first kiss for both of them, although they’ve both told the other that they’ve kissed dozens of girls.

“Okay,” Tommy says, “But if you get the Pacific, you have to take me boating.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When they are 19, Tommy drags Oliver back to their apartment; being the slightly less drunk one entails many responsibilities and Tommy takes them seriously. 

He plops Oliver in bed and pulls off Oliver’s shoes and jeans, leaving him to sleep in a T-shirt and boxers. He puts a glass of water and hangover pills on the bed table, and gently tucks a blanket around Oliver’s already-snoring body. He reaches over to tousle Oliver’s hair and say good night.

As he turns away, a hand has gripped his wrist. Oliver had woken up at the touch.

“Don’t go,” Oliver mumbles. He grins, lazy and wide and gently tugs Tommy back toward him. “Sleep here.”

“Not tonight, killer,” Tommy says affectionately, using the nickname Oliver had won by taking down shots of Yaeger.

He pulls the blanket up around Oliver, who looks disappointed. 

“When the room isn’t spinning, we’ll talk, okay?” Tommy says, running a hand softly on Oliver’s shoulder. They hadn’t been together in a while, had settled swimmingly into just friends since they started college.

“So we’ll do it tomorrow, right? I’ll hold you to that,” Oliver said.

Tommy rolled his eyes at the cockiness of it. “Sure, Oliver. Tomorrow, we’ll do everything you can think of. But only if you actually remember this conversation.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Oliver comes back from the dead, for the first few weeks, no one is more of a comfort than Tommy. He doesn’t stare at him with pity or confusion. He doesn’t ask questions that Oliver obviously doesn’t want to answer. 

He’s pushy as hell, acting like Oliver should want to do the things they used to do, but Tommy’s smarter than people give him credit for, and Oliver sees that Tommy knows damn well that Oliver isn’t the same. Tommy’s just trying to keep Oliver from spending the next five years hiding in his mother’s mansion. 

And Oliver needs that.

Not as much as he needs the hood, the sound of arrows piercing their target. But he needs it still.

The first time after he comes back that Tommy kisses him, Oliver sits perfectly still. The contact – the closeness, the assertiveness even – terrifies him. He is no longer used to any intimacy but violence. 

“Sorry,” Tommy says immediately. 

“No,” Oliver answers. He swallows. He refuses to be scared of this. 

He presses forward, kisses Tommy back, slowly, then faster, rough almost.

They keep going, and Tommy’s shirt is off. Oliver’s hand is on his groin, stroking through the fabric of his pants.

Tommy starts to unbutton Oliver’s shirt.

Then Oliver’s on the other side of the room. Tommy knows about his scars, but hasn’t seen them. Oliver needs to keep it that way.

“Shit. Sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tommy says. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Oliver says, and Tommy stares at him. Oliver knows he must look strange, he must look blank.

Oliver walks out, willing himself to ease his breathing. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Would you give it up if I asked you to?” Tommy asks him, knowing the answer already. Ever since he found out, he talked like the Vigilante wasn’t real, like the real Oliver was the man he used to know. 

“No.”

Tommy pauses. “Would you give it up if Laurel asked you?” There is tension in the voice, a dual jealousy.

Oliver knows he should say no. 

Instead, he says, “Laurel wouldn’t ask me to.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

After the Undertaking, or half of it anyway, he carries Tommy to the hospital.

Surgery takes forever.

He and Laurel sit in the waiting room; Tommy has no family left to wait with them. 

There is no news, but Oliver sneaks around and finds that Tommy has almost died twice so far, once during surgery and once after. He also manages to visit Diggle, who is doing considerably better and is exasperating nurses by refusing to stay in bed. Diggle takes one look at him and sends him back to Tommy and Laurel.

Finally, Tommy is pronounced stable enough to be moved; Laurel eventually agrees to go home and get some rest. 

People start to come by; they’ve heard that Malcolm Merlyn’s son is here. They are residents of the Glades; they have lost loved ones tonight, and they want their pound of flesh. Detective Lance orders guards on Tommy’s room.

Oliver manages to sneak in through the window and sleep in a chair; Tommy hasn’t regained consciousness, and he charms the night nurses into letting him stay (or rather, the influx of injured patients doesn’t leave enough energy to kick out a well-meaning friend).

Oliver waits. And waits.

Eventually, Tommy wakes up. And Oliver’s is the first face he sees.

He takes one look at Oliver and says, “You lied about my father, didn’t you.” He knows the answer. He always seems to know Oliver’s answer these days.

“I’m sorry.”

“Did you have a choice?”

“No.”

Tommy nods slightly, then winces at the pain. 

“Let me get a nurse,” Oliver says. 

“No. Just… wait. Is Laurel okay?”

“She’s fine. You saved her.”

“How many people were killed?” Tommy asks.

 _A lot._ “I don’t know.”

Tommy sighs. “Go home, Oliver.”

“I can’t.”

“I’ll have you kicked out.”

Oliver pauses. 

“What?” Tommy asks warily.

“There are people who want to … hurt you.”

“They think I had something to do with the Undertaking?”

“No. Just… revenge. Tommy, I’m staying. If you have me kicked out, I’ll sneak back in while you’re sleeping. It has to be this way.” Oliver says it like it’s an order, like his strength makes him impossible to deny.

Tommy sighs again. “I really hate you sometimes.”

He closes his eyes and leans back on the bed, and soon he is asleep. Oliver watches him breathe all night.

\--

Tommy is in the hospital for two weeks. Laurel visits Tommy during the day; Oliver visits Tommy every night. Later, he is moved to a rehab center where he will do physical therapy every day. Oliver suggests that Diggle moves to the same center, and Laurel visits often. Diggle insists on helping Oliver place micro security cameras around Tommy’s room where Tommy and the staff won’t find them; after that, at Tommy’s request, Oliver stops visiting and keeps tabs on Tommy from his headquarters. Oliver, in fact, hardly ever leaves headquarters, despite Diggle’s and Felicity’s insistence. 

They go months without speaking, long after Tommy is released in good health.

Finally, Tommy comes to see him at the club.

Oliver considers hugging him but decides against it.

They make small talk until Oliver nervously asks him why he came.

Tommy pulls out his phone and plays a recording.

It’s Tommy’s mother dying. Calling out for her husband. 

“My father listened to this recording again and again and again, until the guilt for not saving her turned him into something terrible. Something that… my mother would have hated.”

Oliver nods. He thinks that Tommy is explaining his father’s sins.

Tommy continues, “I hear you think the Undertaking is your fault. Because you couldn’t stop it.” 

Oliver raises an eyebrow. 

Tommy shrugs. “You keep tabs on me, I keep tabs on you.”

“Diggle?” Oliver asks skeptically.

“Felicity,” Tommy says, “And she wants it on the record that she’s doing it because she’s worried about you. She’s also talking to Laurel, by the way, not about your secret, but you know… about you.”

“That’s not going anywhere good.”

Tommy cracked a smile, but then turned serious again. “Look, I hear you stare at picture of the victims of the Undertaking every night.”

“To remind myself of what’s important. To motivate me.”

“To motivate you to hide from all human contact in your mancave, wallowing in your special, special guilt?” 

Oliver felt his jaw tightening. “It _was_ my job to stop it, Tommy. And I did fail. I failed this city.”

“I heard you saved half the Glades.”

“Half,” Oliver said, voice cracking.

“If you keep this up-”

“I’m not your father, Tommy,” Oliver snapped, “I’m not a sociopath.” He knows how harsh this sounds, how brutal. He says it anyway. 

“Someday you could be,” Tommy shot back. 

He couldn’t. Oliver knows this about himself.

Tommy continued, “Oliver. I wish I had stopped my father. I wish I had done better. Diggle wishes that he could have done more, so does Felicity, so does your mother. So do you. But it’s time to move on. I need this from you.” He stared at Oliver, all intensity, eyelashes and wet, angry eyes and everything that Oliver has found comfort in since they were stupid, silly boys.

“Why?” Oliver said, clenching his jaw, determined to resist. “You hate me. You’ve hated me since you found out who I am.”

He waited for Tommy to argue, to say that he could never hate Oliver.

Tommy didn’t. “I hated my father, too. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do anything to have another chance with him.”

Oliver frowned. 

“Your guilt, your thinking that you are nothing but vengeance and atonement – it will turn you into someone else, Oliver. In worse ways than the island did. And I … don’t have that many people left.” He looked at Oliver again, half hope and half accusation.

Oliver said nothing.

“Fine,” Tommy said and turned around to walk out.

Oliver almost ran after him, almost stopped him from leaving. 

He didn’t.


End file.
